


the story of our own times

by oh_la_fraise



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:55:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21795694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oh_la_fraise/pseuds/oh_la_fraise
Summary: Ted, in the early stages of fumbling to convince Alexis to date him, had said “Oh, maybe you could talk about your music career for my newspaper column!”  She’d accepted but also brought David along as her publicist, and David had accepted because he’d had nothing better to do. This had led to David muscling his way into writing for the paper.  Ted had asked David for a one-time consult, but David had been so horrified by his trend forecasting of kitten pictures as the new high art trend that he’d insisted on joint creative control.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose, Theodore "Ted" Mullens & David Rose, Theodore "Ted" Mullens/Alexis Rose
Comments: 12
Kudos: 42
Collections: Schitt's Creek Open Fic Night 2.0





	the story of our own times

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mynameispiaivy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mynameispiaivy/gifts).



> For mynameispiaivy! Hope you enjoy. Title is from a quote from Henry Steel Commager.

The Schitt Times Daily newspaper was an all volunteer effort: Roland covered politics (“No one else in town has my insider sources.”); Ronnie and Bob ran a DIY column; Ray covered business news (specifically, Butani business news, which took up both the bulk of the column and the ad section); Twyla wrote the astrology portion. Ted, in addition to writing a healthy lifestyle column, had been put in charge of the arts and culture section, because he had a premium Spotify account and art on the waiting room of his clinic.

Ted, in the early stages of fumbling to convince Alexis to date him, had said “Oh, maybe you could talk about your music career for the my newspaper column!” She’d accepted but also brought David along as her publicist, and David had accepted because he’d had nothing better to do. 

Which had led to David muscling his way into writing for the paper. Ted had asked David for a one-time consult, but David had been so horrified by his trend forecasting of kitten pictures as the new high art trend that he’d insisted on joint creative control. 

Alexis and Ted broke up, got engaged, broke up again, and eventually settled into a sexual-tension-laden friendship. But through everything, Ted and David stuck together. It turned out, once their creative partnership was established, David and Ted got along like a house on fire, which is to say, people desperately wanted them to stop. 

It was around the time of the general store closing, when David was researching local products, that he realized, for all the wonderful goat milk soaps and hand crafted linens around, the local talent was . . .lacking. He had a line in his business plan that his store would be a mixed use space, by which he meant that he’d occasionally cave to his Mom and give the Jazzagals a space in which to promote their art. But the fifth time he and Ted were covering Moira doing the entirety of The Sound of Music by herself, even Ted was starting to hesitate a little. 

“I think people are starting to get sick of the Jazzagals performing,” Ted said cautiously. 

“Okay, not that I disagree,” David said, “but the fact that we had to resort to Gwen doing a Beyonce solo with Bob playing Jay Z shows that there is not a lot of untapped talent in this town.”

Ted nodded. “One of my patients who has a chihuahua that barks to Selena Gomez songs. I could ask her. . . .?”

“That’s. . .an option,” David said carefully. He was trying not to offend Ted every thirty seconds, but Ted was making it very hard.

“Yeah, it’s just your general demeanor says it’s not,” Ted said. “What if we hosted a talent scouting competition?”

Huh. As much as David despaired of having to listen to Roland attempt another fourteen minute air guitar solo, that. . .wasn’t a terrible idea. They could get a lot of foot traffic into the Apothecary from the surrounding towns, and Town Council would probably love it, which would make promotion easier.

Ted, taking David’s brief hesitation as acquiescence, spread his hands wide, grinning. “Americreek Idol.”

“Yeah, it’s just we’re in Canada. . .?”

“Well, Creeknadian Idol doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

~

The event was eventually dubbed Shout’s Creek. David was still mildly horrified, but Roland had been gunning for the Schitty Sing Off, so David had sacrificed the battle to win the war.

~

Somehow, it had been decided that Ted and David, as the cultural tastemakers in the town, would serve as advisors to the contestants. Ted pointed out that was more the Voice than American Idol, but he was overruled. 

“It makes sense, though,” Ted mused. “You’re Simon, who was honest and outspoken, but kind at heart. And I’m Randy, who was funny and cool and got to talk about dogs a lot.”

“One might wonder, though, if there is a partiality amongst the judges panel,” Mrs. Rose sad as they were presenting their idea to the Town Council. “I know our dear Alexis is planning to participate, and there might be cries of favoritism with her brother and former beau on the panel.”

“So what are you suggesting,” David asked in the way that said he was already judging even though no one had said anything. 

“Well, I‘d be happy to step in,” Mrs. Rose said. As a member of Town Council, she was kept from participating in the competition itself; Ted and David had a side bet going she’d try out in a disguise anyway.

“But, you’re Alexis’s mother,” Ted pointed out. “Wouldn’t you be biased too?”

“Oh Theodore,” Mrs. Rose said, “I wouldn't let the magnanimity of motherhood bias my exquisite judge of talent.”

~

When Alexis trotted out, Ted understood what she meant. It was. . .not good.

“You’re hired,” he said. “I can be your coach."

“We won’t argue with that,” David said. 

~

After Alexis’s horrifying performance—she’d chosen a sensual cover of Bitch Better Have my Money—David felt bored with all the monotonous performances that came in. Stevie, obviously high, had come in to do a cover of You Oughta Know that had been surprisingly okay. He assumed she’d pick him as her coach, but Moira broke into an inspirational speech, and she gravitated to his mom like a gross moth to a lamp. David glared and promised to himself he’d have a very stern talk about loyalty with Stevie later.

The third cute-in-a-bland way guy of the day came in; it was like they were coming to life from a Sears’ catalogue. But then he started to sing, and—

Huh. He wasn’t bad. 

He was doing a cover of some 90’s rock band—something that David would have normally hated, but it worked. And he was . . .staring at David with his soulful brown eyes. This guy, with his Great Clips haircut and braided leather belt, was making David uncomfortably warm next to his mother and weird newspaper buddy/ex-BIL, and David was not happy abut that.

“Well, that was quite the performance,” his mother said. “I would be happy to take such a talented young man under my wing. . .”

“I‘ll do it,” David said, surprising himself. His mother looked at him suspiciously. “You’re already caching three people.”

“So I am,” his mother said, watching him carefully.

~

“So I assume you’re going to do A Little Bit Alexis?” Ted said, totally ignoring the very short dress she was wearing. They were both determined to be professional, but Ted’s idea of professional was serious business agent in a suit, and Alexis’s was a pop star at the beginning of a dark phase. 

“Um, I don’t think that sets the right tone?” Alexis said. “I want something serious and melancholy to show my emotional depth.”

“So what are you going to sing?”

“Sad Rich Bitch, obviously.” 

~

Great Clips was named Patrick, apparently; he was new to town, working for Ray, and, he said five minutes into his one on one with David, very gay.

“Not that I—I mean—“ Patrick said, stuttering, in response to David’s question if he’d noticed Twyla flirting with him. “It’s new. I’m still coming out to people.” He swallowed, way too serious. “That—trying out for this competition; I’m trying to live my life the way I want to for the first time in my life.”

“Kay,” David said, with the terrible knowledge that his crush was now theoretically possible. He was supposed to be leaving to help Ronnie with her stage presence singing Blue Moon, but he ignored the clock. “You could always do a Queen song.”

~

“So how's coaching going?” David asked Ted at dinner that night. The fact that he was voluntarily having dinner with Ted was a little disturbing, but he needed to spend time with someone that wasn't Steve or Alexis and who wouldn't ask why he was smiling so much. And somehow, Ted was his third best friend in this god forsaken town. 

“Good,” Ted said, “Ray’s interpretive dancing is really coming along,” 

David winced. “And you can still hear okay after working all day with Alexis?”

“Yeah, she, uh. . .we had a lot of fun today.” He had that completely goofy smile on his face like when he talked about stress baking or the cat who wore bowties on Instagram. 

Whelp, hopefully his Mom hadn’t fallen in love with Stevie, or they’d be really fucked.

~

A day later, after hours of intense training, the concert dawned. Well, Moira had put Steve through intense training; Ted and Alexis had quit twenty minutes in to go for ice cream, and David and Patrick had a sexually charged session where David had made Patrick try on everything he owned to find the perfect stage outfit. Only everything Patrick owned was identical blue button downs and three pairs of jeans. David had known two shirts in nothing would match his vision, but he'd made Patrick try on everything anyway. 

Jocelyn was first, dong a mediocre cover of a Dolly Parton song, Roland cheering from the bleachers. Gwen did another Beyoncé cover, but somehow she’d convinced a dancer from the Dude Cave to do Jay Z’s part. Alexis followed. She sang a slow song from her EP, and Ted stared besotted at her the entire time. He looked ridiculous. 

Then Patrick came out, in ripped, soft looking jeans and a well fitted henley that definitely hadn’t been in his closet the day before. Hs song was slow and mournful—and not what they'd practiced at all—staring at David the whole time. David couldn't take his eyes off of Patrick.

~

David was looking at the guy who’d auditioned yesterday—Parker, or something—with a completely besotted look on his face. Ted smiled to himself; David looked ridiculous.

~

Somehow, either because she’d actually trained or because Moira had bribed the guy counting the votes, Steve won the audience vote, and thus the competition, which netted her two free coupons to the diner. 

~

The next day, the arts and culture headline of the Schitt Times Daily read _Local competition produces beautiful music._ Neither Ted nor David argued about the title.


End file.
